Chapter 21
Sercen
After spending so much time trudging through the deep mud and standing water of the Blackwood, the swift progress the caravan made along the wide highway that encircled the White-Gold City was a welcome change. Telepe had almost forgotten what it was like to travel on an open, well-maintained road. Each day, they covered almost twice as much distance as they had in the south, and Telepe eventually came to wonder how he had tolerated the miserable journey through southern Cyrod.
The region itself was certainly far more pleasant. The air was slightly cooler and much less humid, and though they were still forced to endure fairly frequent rainfall, they rarely suffered through outright storms. The scenery was also far less dreary. Instead of the murky, foreboding swamplands of the south, they now traveled beside a relatively tame rainforest. The treeline of the jungle had been carefully cultivated to remain several feet away from the road. This also allowed Telepe to finally appreciate the beauty of the jungle instead of fearing it. Few predators dared stalk the highway, which was lined by numerous inns, taverns, and magical wells that granted weary travelers a reprieve from their journey. Though they did not indulge in any of these luxuries out of necessity, and though they avoided speaking to the other elves using the road, the fact that they were walking on a well-traveled, civilized road was enough to put Telepe in good spirits.
However, he was not foolish enough to settle into a false sense of security. He was well aware that while they no longer had to fear attacks from wild beasts, they now had to remain alert for attacks from far more dangerous predators. The Ayleid patrols that kept the roads safe and secure were also a constant source of anxiety for everyone in the caravan. Each time one drew near, Telepe felt his heart begin to race. He wondered when another one would grow suspicious of the wagon train and demand that they submit to an inspection. Two more patrols had approached them since their first confrontation, though thankfully both times Prince Dynar had managed to convince their captains to leave them be without further incident. Nevertheless, Telepe was frequently startled awake in the middle of the night by the sounds of heavy boots nearby, and though every time he had realized that it was just their own guards keeping them safe, he was rarely able to fall back asleep afterwards. More than once, he had dozed off in the cart, much to the irritation of the humans who were forced to walk beside the wagon and couldn't rest while they were marching.
The tension between the humans and elves thankfully had not grown any worse, though there hadn't been any improvement either. While some of the squads had begun to intermingle more, the elves remained conspicuously apart from the rest of the group. Though Telepe had occasionally tried to speak with them, he'd had little success. They were cordial enough each time he had approached their campfire, but they still treated him with a subtle air of disdain. He could feel their eyes raking over his pointed ears every time they looked at him, though he had grown used to that from both races. He noticed that while humans gazed at the tapered point at the top of his ears, elves' eyes tended to roam along the rounded middle part of his ear. Even so, at least the humans typically looked him in the eye again after a quick glance. The elves' stares lingered on his ears for several moments, which underlined the fact that they considered him an outsider. Though they tolerated his presence, they made little attempt to truly engage in conversation with him, and their responses to his questions were polite, but terse. Eventually, he excused himself and returned to his own campfire while trying to ignore the bemused stares leveled at his back.
Nevertheless, while relations between man and mer were not warm, they at least didn't hinder their progress as they headed north. In fact, Telepe was astonished by how smoothly the journey had progressed – too smoothly, in fact. As such, he was likely the only one who wasn't particularly surprised when they finally did encounter a problem.
"Rats," Edanu announced early one morning before they had broken camp, glowering as he held up a damaged sack of flour that he had pulled from one of the wagons. The bottom had been chewed through, and as Telepe peered into the cart, he saw traces of the fine brown powder scattered along the floor.
"Are you certain it's not someone pilfering food in the middle of the night?" piped up Avita, one of his subordinate centurions. When Edanu glanced at her curiously, she shrugged and explained, "I once knew a slave who was stealing food. He tried to trick our masters by tearing the bottom of the sacks to make it seem as though rats were eating the grain. He was eventually caught, but it took them over a month to catch on to what he was doing."
"Well… that's something we'll be alert for in the future," Edanu assured her. "But in this case, no, it's not a thief. For one, we found droppings in the sack as well. And then there's this." He gave her a wry smile as he held up the corpse of a bloated rat by its tail, dangling it in front of her. The woman grimaced and took a step back as Edanu drily added, "I'm fairly certain it's rats."
"How much of the food did they spoil?" Telepe asked, peering warily into the wagon for any signs of movement.
"By my count, eight sacks of grain, and they seem to have gotten into one of the barrels of fruit as well," Edanu scowled. "So at least a week's worth of food."
Telepe bit the inside of his cheek as he unfurled the inventory scroll and gave it a quick look. "Well… fortunately, we stocked the wagons with a surplus of supplies," he said slowly. "We could probably still make it to Sancre Tor on what we have… so long as the infestation has been removed," he added, glancing up at the centurion.
"I have a few of the men scouring the wagons for the little beasts, but they're clever, so it will take a while," Edanu admitted with a frown. "Come to think of it, we should probably see if we can find a couple stray cats and bring them along when we get the chance."
"As you say," Telepe noted. "How do you wish to address this, though? Should we cut our rations and press on?"
Edanu scowled and folded his arms over his broad chest, pacing back and forth. "No," he said finally. "Not unless we need to. Right now, we have other options."
"What do you suggest, sir?" asked Barabi, another of his subordinates.
Edanu paused and turned towards her. "First, we might forage for what we need. Many of us are skilled at finding food in the wilderness, and most of us have subsisted on far worse than wild vegetables and mushrooms. However, foraging will slow our progress significantly, and time is of the essence.
"Our second option is to raid some of the nearby farms for food. Since we're nearing the end of the harvest season, the granaries should be full, and many of the guards are also working in the fields to gather as much as possible. Since we're the Paravant's finest warriors, it would be little trouble for us to simply take what we need. That said… it would draw a great deal of unwanted attention. Thus far, we've managed to elude the patrols, but if we start attacking outlying farms, we'll quickly become wanted for banditry. What's more, the slaves would suffer the most from raids. If their masters don't have a full harvest, they'll leave their slaves to starve while hoarding what they need for themselves. I have no desire to condemn fellow humans to death."
"And a third option is to trade for what we need with a nearby Ayleid settlement?" Telepe suggested, tilting his head.
Edanu gave him a brief, surprised look, but then he nodded, a faint smile flickering across his face. "Perceptive. Yes. If we wish to pursue that option, I recommend that we ask one of our Ayleid friends to journey to a nearby city and ask them to procure more supplies for us," he added, turning to Prince Dynar. "I would ask your thoughts, Your Highness."
Dynar seemed surprised that the centurion was including him in the discussion, but when Edanu continued to gaze at him expectantly, he looked down and rested his chin on his thumb, considering the question. "According to our maps, the nearest city-state is the kingdom of Sercen," he explained. "In truth, I would rather we didn't trade with them."
"Do you believe they'll be hostile?" Edanu asked bluntly.
"Perhaps. It's complicated," Dynar replied slowly. "For one, I'm uncertain how alliances have shifted since Meridia announced her favor towards Umaril. Sercen was, for many years, a city that was devoted to Meridia. In the past few decades, however, a cult of Vaermina, the Prince of Nightmares, rose to power in the city. They purged the Meridians, and those that weren't slain fled to other kingdoms."
"What does that mean for us?" Edanu asked, folding his arms over his chest.
"Meridia has openly declared war on the rebellion, but I'm uncertain of where the followers of Vaermina stand… or if it even matters to them," Dynar replied simply. "Should they discover our association, they may or may not be openly hostile to us. However, the worshippers of Vaermina are mad dreamers, and as such, quite dangerous, regardless of their official stance towards the rebellion."
"Perhaps it would be wiser to seek supplies in another city, then?" Telepe suggested. "Our supplies haven't been completely ruined, after all, and we can almost certainly reach another city before they're depleted. If we ration what we have…."
"The other nearby cities are little better," Dynar shook his head. "To the north lies the city of Anga, who are devout worshippers of Namira." Telepe grimaced at that news. The followers of Namira practiced ritual cannibalism, and the worst were known to actively hunt men and mer for their meat. Anga was not an option. "Meanwhile, to the west… Piukanda may be safe, but beyond that lies the city of Lindai, with whom they have close relations. And I have little desire to linger anywhere near Lindai."
Telepe raised his eyebrows. "Do you have a personal history with them?" he asked, noting the change in Dynar's tone.
Dynar exhaled deeply. "Lindai is embroiled in a blood feud with Nenalata, and I fear they know my face quite well. If we travel to Piukanda and someone from Lindai happens to be in the city, we'll no longer be able to travel anonymously. Lindai may well send their entire army after us if they believe they have a chance at capturing or slaying me."
"So, our travels must take us due north to avoid Lindai, and Anga is likely even more dangerous than Sercen," Edanu summarized. "Then it seems we have little choice but to take our chances with the mad dreamers, then."
"Indeed," Dynar nodded grimly. When Edanu paused to consider the prince's conclusion, Dynar added, "We're under your command, centurion. Should you order us to travel to the city, we shall do so. I simply wish to make you aware of the risk."
"I appreciate your honesty, Your Highness," Edanu sighed. He resumed pacing back and forth, his arms folded over his chest, as the others uneasily waited for his decision. Finally, he looked up and slowly nodded. "Very well. Prince Dynar, may I ask you to travel to Sercen and see if you can secure new supplies for us?"
"As you wish," Dynar complied with a bow. Telepe glanced past him and noticed the other centurions smiling with approval at the Ayleid's deference to their commander.
"Very good. Take whomever you wish to aid you," Edanu said. "We'll camp as close to the city as possible and await your return, if you have no objections."
"None. But please remain on your guard. Though we're near Sercen, many of the highway patrols are still likely under the command of Umaril," Dynar said. "I'll leave my warriors with you while I travel to the city."
"Thank you, Your Highness," Edanu nodded again.
Dynar nodded in return, then turned to Telepe. "I'd like you to accompany me, Telepe. Would you mind retrieving Tari for me?" he asked thoughtfully.
Telepe frowned slightly, inclined his head. "Of course," he replied. "Though if you would sate my curiosity, was there a particular reason?"
"Serendipity," Dynar shrugged. Telepe stared at him in confusion, and he chuckled, explaining, "I was speaking with Farilel a few nights ago, and she mentioned that there are alchemical ingredients growing in the north that Tari might not be familiar with. Sercen is renowned for having excellent alchemists, so I believe this would be an excellent opportunity for her to learn from those familiar with the flora of the north."
"Ah! Fortuitous indeed," Telepe chuckled.
Dynar grinned back as he began walking back to his wagon. "While you're searching for her, I'd also like you to ask Tamieu and Bjornar to join us. I'd like to ask them to aid us in loading and unloading the wagon. Meanwhile, I shall seek out Farilel."
Telepe nodded and began wandering between the wagons, looking for the men Dynar had requested. Tamieu and Bjornar were easy enough to find – the former was a tan-skinned keptu man from the vast desert south of Malabal, while the latter was a looming, black-haired Nord originally from Windhelm, in the heart of the frigid northern land of Skyrim. The two were among the strongest warriors in their retinue, and both followed orders without question or complaint, even if the orders were given by an Ayleid. Telepe wasn't surprised that Dynar chose them to accompany him.
Telepe eventually found Tari in the back of the wagon, inspecting the damaged goods. She was as surprised as he had been when extended the prince's invitation to her, though she frowned when he explained the prince's reasoning to her.
"I'm uncertain if the Ayleids would be willing to teach a mere slave," she commented.
"Farilel is accompanying us as well. I imagine she'll ask them to teach her, and you can observe," Telepe explained.
"I see," Tari said slowly, a smile creeping along her face. "Either way, it'll be a nice change from constantly marching. I'd love to accompany you and Prince Dynar."
"Just like old times, mm?" Telepe asked, smiling down at her. She grinned up at him in return as they returned to Dynar, who was helping the two men remove the last of the goods from his wagon, while Tari's teacher, Farilel, watched from inside the wagon.
"Welcome," Dynar called out as they approached, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as he saw the pair approaching. He set the last sack of dried vegetables on the ground and exhaled deeply. Bjornar and Tamieu began moving the goods into another one of the wagons, while Telepe frowned.
"You unloaded the wagon? How do you intend to trade for new supplies?" Telepe asked slowly. He realized that he had yet to see the Ayleids use any sort of coinage in the entire time he had been in Cyrod. While coins certainly weren't the only method of trade, they couldn't barter if they didn't have anything to offer in return.
"We'll use these," Farilel explained, reaching into a pouch on her belt. She withdrew a handful of small, round beads that seemed to be made of clear, green glass.
"I see…." Telepe said, admiring the small beads as they glinted in the sunlight, before looking up. "Will that be enough?"
"If we bargain properly," Dynar chuckled as Farilel slid them back into her pouch. "Right. That's everything. Let's be off." He glanced at Tamieu and Bjornar, adding, "You two are welcome to ride in the wagon with us, if you like."
The pair seemed surprised by his offer, and they briefly traded uncomfortable looks. "Your Highness… we're to maintain the illusion of servitude…." Tamieu began protesting.
"I've seen kind masters who permit their slaves to ride with them," Dynar replied, waving off their concerns. "And unlike these two, you've been marching for the past several days," he added, shooting Telepe and Tari playfully disdainful looks. "If anyone deserves a rest, it's you. If you're certain you wish to walk, I won't insist, but the invitation stands."
Tamieu started to protest again, but Bjornar simply shrugged and climbed into the back of the wagon. After a moment's hesitation, Tamieu joined him, slumping onto one of the benches with a deep, relieved sigh. Tari and Telepe traded amused smiles as they did the same, with Telepe climbing a bit further forward to join Dynar and Farilel on the bench just behind the horses.
"I believe you've made two more friends," Telepe murmured in a low voice.
"Provided I didn't make them uncomfortable," Dynar grinned, snapping the reins of the horses and urging them into a gentle walk as he drove them down the road.
Sercen was several minutes away from where the caravan had stopped the night before, and it wasn't long before they spotted it in the distance. The massive white city was built on an intersection in the road, where it could dominate the point where the path split north, east, and west. Apparently, the Blackwood practice of building cities deeper into the jungle rather than along trade routes didn't apply in the heartland of Cyrod, Telepe mused.
The pristine city walls were built in a large circle, unlike the square walls that many other settlements sported. Even from a distance, Telepe could see armored guards pacing the walls, suspiciously eyeing the traffic flowing in all directions. When one of the guards spotted Dynar's wagon approaching the city, she spoke in a low voice to one of her compatriots, who grimaced and began hurrying down the stairs to meet them.
"And here I was just starting to enjoy the guards not constantly treating us with hostility whenever we approached their city," Telepe muttered to Dynar as a quartet of Ayleid warriors approached them.
"Such is life in Cyrod, my friend," Dynar sighed. He then turned his attention to the guards and added in a warm voice, "Greetings! Forgive our intrusion, but we wish to trade in your market."
The guards glanced at each other, but since the request was reasonable, Telepe suspected that they didn't have a reason to deny him. "Very well," the female guard said, motioning towards the gates. "You'll find the market in the southern district. And please feel free to enjoy the gardens in the eastern section once you've finished," she added off-handedly. "One of our artists recently added a new display."
"Thank you," Dynar nodded, though Telepe noticed his smile was strained. He began guiding the cart into the city as Tari scrambled a bit closer, her eyes gleaming with interest.
"Gardens?" she repeated eagerly, her gaze lingering on Farilel. "Is that where their alchemists grow their ingredients? Is that why you invited me along?!"
An uncomfortable look crossed Farilel's face, and when she turned to face Tari, she had a similarly nervous smile on her lips. "That's… not the sort of garden you're thinking of," she explained. "We're going to avoid that part of the city."
Tari's grin instantly faded. "What do they mean, then?" she asked coldly.
"It's something that will enrage you, so I'd prefer it if you didn't press the issue," Dynar said shortly. Something about his tone sent a shiver down Telepe's spine, and though Tari scowled, she didn't protest further.
Farilel cleared her throat, then turned to her apprentice with a slight smile. "Putting the gardens aside for now, this shall be an excellent opportunity for you to learn about northern alchemy. You said you haven't been further north than the Great Jungle, yes? Then there is much that the people of Sercen can teach you."
"Is there nothing growing in the north that's familiar to Tari?" Telepe piped up with a frown. He had almost no knowledge of alchemy –when foraging for food, he simply avoided mushrooms altogether and instead tried to hunt for familiar berries and root vegetables. Even then, he had almost poisoned himself once by sampling some bright red berries he had mistaken for currants, only to spit them out when he realized they had a bitter flavor.
"She should recognize some ingredients, yes. It won't be wholly unfamiliar," Farilel answered with a smile. "The north is far cooler than the Nibenay Basin, however, and some plants simply cannot grow in the cold. Even so, rather than identifying ingredients, I'm actually hoping the alchemists can teach her where to look. Usable ingredients become increasingly sparse as one nears the mountains." She lowered her gaze to her hands and added, "Either way, I believe there is much you might learn from them."
"Hopefully," Tari agreed. As she turned back around, however, she and Telepe traded pointed looks. It was obvious to both of them that the Ayleids were deliberately trying to distract them, which only piqued their curiosity more. She glanced at Dynar's back with a querying tilt of her head, which Telepe responded to with a subtle nod. Tari smiled gratefully at him and settled back onto the bench as the wagon rumbled through the open gates of the city-state.
As they entered the kingdom, Telepe noticed walls to the northeast and northwest, and he abruptly realized that the city was built in a loose facsimile of the White-Gold City. Based on what the guard had said about southern and eastern districts, he inferred that Sercen was divided into four sections based on the cardinal directions.
Since they had entered through the south gate, they were already in the bustling market district. Two-story marble buildings lined the streets, with the upper level serving as housing for the shopkeepers, while the lower level was where they sold their wares. There were also brightly colored stalls set up in a central plaza, where foreign merchants were permitted to ply their trade, though Telepe noticed that they were generally shunned by the native Ayleids, who seemed to favor doing business with their own kind.
"I'm pleased that we've experienced no problems thus far," Dynar remarked, and Telepe stopped gazing around to turn his attention back to the Ayleid prince. "Farilel, why don't you take Tari and see if you can find an alchemist? I'll take the men with me and buy some supplies."
"As you say, Highness," Farilel bowed. Tari shot Telepe a last, insistent look as she stepped off the wagon and followed her 'mistress' down a western street. Dynar watched them until they disappeared into the crowd, and then he snapped the horses' reins again and sent the wagon in the opposite direction.
"Edanu sent us to purchase flour, but I believe we should replenish any of our other rations while we're up here," Telepe commented, pulling the inventory scroll out of his bag once more.
"I intended to," Dynar nodded. "While inspecting the barrels, I noticed that we could stand to buy some more dried fruit and vegetables as well."
"Wise of you. Especially since I suspect this is the last chance we'll have for a while to purchase fruit," Telepe added. Dynar gave him a confused look, to which Telepe hesitantly asked, "At least… if we're traveling further north, shouldn't fruit be almost out of season?"
"Ah… of course. Forgive me, that's just something I don't typically need to consider," Dynar admitted with a sheepish chuckle. "In the Blackwood, the climate is warm enough year-round that we hardly have to worry about whether food is available. Of course, we grow wheat in the same cycle as the rest of Cyrod, but it's typically warm enough that fruit and vegetables grow year-round. We don't eat the same crops all year, of course, but one rarely has to worry about whether there shall be edible plants.
"My apologies. I simply assumed that's not the case in northern Cyrod," Telepe said, folding his hands behind his back. "The wagons also had wool clothing and furs packed in them, so I inferred that the weather is going to grow colder as we travel further north."
"No, you're correct. I'd simply forgotten. Northern Cyrod does indeed experience winter, at least according to the kings that I've spoken with," Dynar admitted. "A few even claimed that snow falls from time to time, especially near the mountains. Sancre Tor is in the foothills of the Jerall Mountains, and autumn should just be nearly over by the time we arrive, so it shall likely be quite cold."
"In that case, should we consider buying some more furs as well?" Telepe frowned. "If the rats were chewing on them…."
"We checked. The clothing was thankfully undamaged," Dynar assured him. "It seems the rats were merely hungry, and they didn't have time to make a proper nest."
"Thank the gods," Telepe muttered. "I'd rather not have to spend hours trying to wash rat waste out of fur."
Dynar chuckled as they approached one of the grocers, who owned a store on the corner of one of the streets. The elf eagerly waved them over, and Dynar handed the reins over to Telepe as he stepped down to inspect the sack of buckwheat that the merchant was already insisting was the finest and heartiest in the north.
For the next hour, Telepe's attention wandered as Dynar walked from shop to shop, arguing with the merchants over their exorbitant prices. Since he was playing the role of a dutiful servant, Telepe was required to keep silent, so there was little for him to do. Part of him wondered why Dynar had bothered to bring him along, though he suspected that it was due to the usefulness of his charm spells. However, Dynar never asked him for his help in haggling with the shopkeepers, so Telepe was left idling and struggling to stave off boredom.
When Dynar finally finished shopping, Tamieu and Bjornar set about loading the wagon with ten sacks of flour, four of dried beans, and three each of dried fruits and vegetables. Dynar had to exchange five his of glass beads for his purchases, and though Telepe had no idea what the value of an individual bead was, the prince seemed pleased with the trade.
With little else to do, Telepe eventually hopped off the cart to help Bjornar and Tamieu load the sacks into the wagon. Though the two men had protested at first – understandably, given how lean Telepe was, so they likely considered him a hindrance more than a help –they eventually relented and asked him to carry the sacks of fruit and vegetables. The fact that they were far lighter than the flour and beans didn't escape his notice, but he was glad to have something to occupy his attention, so he refrained from complaining.
"Well… we finished much sooner than I had expected," Dynar commented as Tamieu stacked the last sack of beans in the center of the wagon. He glanced up at the early afternoon sky, adding, "I suppose we have nothing to do but wait for Farilel and Tari to return."
Telepe closed the back of the wagon and wandered over to the prince, giving him a sidelong look. "Well… if we have time to spare, would you mind if I viewed these gardens that the guards mentioned earlier?" he asked.
Dynar winced at Telepe's request. He slowly turned to regard Telepe with a dark look. "If you truly wish to… though I would advise against it."
The prince's grave tone sent a chill down Telepe's spine, and he almost reconsidered his request. However, he had tacitly promised Tari that he would view the gardens in her stead if he could, and his own curiosity was nagging at him. "I… suppose that a quick look wouldn't hurt, would it?" Telepe asked slowly.
Dynar stared at him for an uncomfortably long moment, and then he reluctantly turned to Bjornar and Tamieu. "I would like to request that you two remain here with the cart. Ensure that no one steals our goods, please."
"Ah… certainly," Bjornar acknowledged, though he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the prince's tone.
Dynar slowly nodded his thanks, and then he motioned to Telepe. "Come, then," he sighed heavily. "I'll show you the gardens, if you're truly curious."
Telepe once again noticed the prince's grim expression, and a knot began to form in the pit of his stomach. This is your duty as well, he silently convinced himself. While you're here, you should ascertain whether Sercen could be a viable ally. If they're proud of their gardens, you should seek to understand why.
…And you're morbidly curious about why Dynar doesn't wish for you to view the gardens, he admitted to himself.
"Very well," Telepe nodded, snapping out of his thoughts. "Lead on."
Dynar shook his head in disbelief, but he didn't try to dissuade Telepe further. Motioning for him to follow, Dynar turned and quickly began striding towards the eastern gate.
Telepe shot a last look over his shoulder at the two human warriors lingering beside the wagon, and then he turned and jogged to catch up with the Ayleid prince. As he fell into stride beside him, he commented breathlessly, "You didn't just wish for Bjornar and Tamieu to watch the wagon for the sake of security. You're trying to prevent them from seeing this, aren't you?"
Dynar gave Telepe a sidelong look, then shook his head. "I trust that you have the necessary restraint not to overreact to what you're about to see," Dynar said flatly. "I do not have the same faith in our Nedic friends."
"Even Tari?" Telepe asked slowly.
"Especially Tari," Dynar emphasized. "That girl is intelligent, but impetuous and vengeful. I fear that she would… react poorly."
The guards standing in front of the eastern gate stared at Dynar and Telepe as they approached, but as the pair neared, they silently opened the gates, allowing them through without challenge. Dynar gave Telepe a last look before stepping through the archway, which once again made Telepe question the wisdom of his decision. However, he decided it was too late now, so he took a deep breath and stepped through the portal behind the prince.
Dynar's dire tone had suggested that Telepe should brace himself for what he was about to witness, and he had tried to do so. However, he was not prepared for the horror that awaited him.
Telepe inhaled sharply in shock and disgust as he beheld the "gardens" of Sercen. The eastern district was smaller than the market district, but there was a great deal of open space, making it seem larger than it was. Narrow cobblestone paths had been laid between wide patches of grass and soil, upon which rested grotesque, monstrous constructs of flesh and gore.
The first thing Telepe beheld seemed to be a brain stem planted into the ground like a narrow sapling, though somehow, it remained rigid and sturdy. Needle-thin nerves extended from the main stem like the branches of a ghastly tree, with faint pulses of visible electricity sparking along the "limbs." It was crowned by a pulsing, sickly grey brain, glistening with cloudy, viscous fluid.
Beyond that, Telepe spotted a small bush dotted with bright red and orange flowers. Perched on top of it was a human chest cavity, which had been neatly bisected, and all of its organs removed, save for the lungs. A pair of large white wings had been affixed to the back of the torso, occasionally fluttering. The lungs slowly inflated and deflated of their own volition, and each time, the chest rose a few inches above the bush before settling back down with each breath, as though a grisly bird was taking off and landing every few seconds.
Telepe felt bile rise in his throat, but Dynar gave him a pitiless look and nudged him forward, forcing him to walk along the path between the ghastly exhibits. He fell back on his diplomatic training to keep his expression neutral, silently reminding himself that they had to maintain decorum in the city. The gardens were being viewed by over a dozen other elves, none of which expressed even a hint of disgust. In fact, most were observing the "plants" with the same look of detached interest that he had seen visitors to his king's palace give to the ornate tapestries that hung above his throne. They were simply observing art pieces, Telepe realized, without considering the fact that the art in question was better suited for a cemetery than this mockery of a garden.
Telepe was able to maintain his composure for about ten minutes, pretending to meander around the garden while feigning the look of indifference that the other elves had plastered on their faces. Eventually, however, he had to take a detour to one of the benches near the wall of the gardens. He nearly collapsed onto the seat, feeling feverish. His breath came in short pants, and a cold sweat trickled down his forehead. Dynar stood over him with his arms folded over his chest, a deep frown on his face.
"You've gone rather pale," the Ayleid prince remarked drily.
"What… is this?!" Telepe hissed. His voice was shaking, and he could feel his hands trembling as he gripped the cold marble bench beneath him.
"These are what are known as the gut-gardens of Sercen," Dynar explained, turning around and folding his arms over his chest as he glared at the gore surrounding them. "The… 'artists' in this city take a great deal of pleasure in crafting the most vile, horrific pieces imaginable."
"…Dare I ask where they get the materials from?" Telepe asked weakly, though he already knew the answer.
"Don't ask foolish questions," Dynar snapped at him.
Telepe sighed and leaned forward, lacing his fingers together and pressing his mouth against them as he tried to calm his trembling. After a few moments, he murmured, "I suppose this is why you didn't want Tari, Bjornar, and Tamieu to witness this?"
"Indeed," Dynar sighed. "The city-states surrounding the White-Gold City are among the most depraved in all of Cyrod. You witnessed how the Ayleids in Fanacasecul and Ceya-Tar behaved, yes? And you recall the stories of Sard?" When Telepe nodded, Dynar added, "In truth, the course I've been leading us on around the White-Gold City was designed to avoid these cities. I gave the kingdom of Vilveren a wide berth, for instance, even though the road passes quite near it." He let out a long sigh as he gazed at the walls around him. "The cities in central Cyrod do not merely use their slaves for labor, and the cruelties of the other kingdoms pale in comparison to those around Lake Rumare. These city-states treat torturing their slaves as an art, such as with the tiger-sport of Ceya-Tar or the wailing wheels of Vindasel."
"…Wailing wheels?" Telepe repeated weakly.
Dynar gave him a pointed look. "Would you like me to elaborate?" he asked in a warning tone. Telepe cast another look around at the gardens and shook his head, immediately deciding that he'd had his curiosity indulged enough.
"Well… the music of Vindasel is remarkable," a cheerful voice commented from behind them. "But it pales in comparison to the beauty of our gardens."
Telepe and Dynar both turned their attention to young Ayleid woman approaching them from across the garden. She wore her bloodred chiton with one shoulder undone, and her auburn hair was done up in a loose bun, with a few stray strands tickling her shoulders. She smiled warmly at them as she stopped a few feet short. Her icy blue eyes briefly raked over Telepe's pointed ears before she tacitly dismissed him and turned her full attention to Dynar.
"Are you enjoying the exhibits?" she asked, folding her hands behind her and rocking forward on her toes to peer into his face.
"They are… remarkable," Dynar replied evasively. Telepe's mouth briefly twitched into a frown at the prince's tepid response, but he didn't say anything. Clearly, the woman had already determined that he was a mere servant, and it wasn't his place to speak up.
"Truly? If I may? What do you think of this piece?" the young lady pressed. She took ahold of Dynar's arm and turned him towards an exhibit to their left. A human heart rested atop a marble pillar, slowly beating of its own volition. Thin tubes that Telepe quickly realized – to his disgust – were veins and arteries snaked down the sides of the pillar like grotesque vines of ivy. Small leaves had been embedded into the veins at irregular intervals, solidifying the hideous analogy. With each beat of the heart, blood was pumped through the tubes, and as Telepe looked closer, he saw that the veins of the deep green leaves briefly pulsed red as the blood seeped into them, before flowing back into the main bloodstream. Telepe traced the path of the arteries and veins with his eyes, and he realized that they eventually reconnected to the heart itself, ensuring that the blood remained in a closed system, constantly flowing throughout the display.
"That is remarkable," Dynar repeated in a flat voice, mercifully drawing Telepe's attention away from the hypnotizing beating of the heart. The young woman seemed momentarily disappointed with his cold reaction to the display, but then her bright smile returned.
"I am rather proud of it, myself," she said, gazing at the still-beating heart with a tender expression on her face. "It took me nearly three months to create it."
Dynar turned towards her, regarding her with a carefully neutral expression. "I see. You're the artist, then?"
"I am," the young woman confirmed, her smile broadening. "You may call me Balaseli."
"Well met," Dynar nodded evenly. Balaseli's smile dimmed, but then she turned to Telepe.
"What do you think?" she asked. Telepe's ear twitched slightly – her tone was disdainful, but it was clear that she was eager for praise, and Telepe suspected that she wasn't going to leave them be until they indulged her. Still, he reminded himself that he was playing the part of a simple servant, so he chose his words carefully.
"It is, as my master said, a remarkable piece," he answered slowly. "Were you attempting to convey some sort of message with it, my lady?"
"An excellent question!" Balaseli beamed. "Yes, this was meant to be a commentary on our relationship with our slaves. In fact, I created this to celebrate their role in our society. Many of my peers consider our slaves little more than tools to carry out tasks, or mindless beasts to be used for our pleasure. But I believe they are more than that." When Telepe tilted his head curiously, urging her to continue, she elaborated, "Our slaves are a natural, living blessing, same as the fruit and grain we harvest, and they are as integral to our society as our food. As such, I believe they should be treated with far more respect than they are currently shown."
"…This heart. It was taken from a slave as well, wasn't it?" Dynar asked slowly, narrowing his eyes at the young woman.
"It is. Though it belonged to an old man who likely only had a few years of life remaining anyways," Balaseli replied dismissively. "Humans have such short lifespans after all. In fact, when I took his life, it was a mercy. I flooded his room with an odorless vapor that slew him peacefully and painlessly in his sleep – a far preferable death to being overworked in the fields or tortured to death, yes? And now, part of him has been made into something far more beautiful than what he was in life."
That's your definition of respecting slaves?! Telepe thought incredulously, suppressing a shudder. The conviction and serenity that the female mer spoke with nauseated him. It was clear from her tone that she wholly believed that what she had done was a merciful blessing to her victim.
"The magic used to enchant the heart so that it continues beating is quite ingenious as well," Balaseli continued, seemingly unaware of the icy expressions on Dynar and Telepe's faces. "It's a variation of an alteration spell which allows for animation of a deceased object. It involves infusing the flesh with just the tiniest spark of life, thereby placing it under the caster's control and allowing the mage to manipulate it at will. I, however, modified the spell. The heart is an automatic muscle, so I needed only stimulate it once with a simple spell. The natural reflexes did the rest, so I needn't continuously re-cast it."
"Alteration…?" Dynar hissed to himself, glaring down at the pulsing heart with a look of disgust. "Is that so?"
Telepe glanced back at Balaseli and noticed her wavering smile. Her head tilted curiously at Dynar's reaction, which caused a spike of anxiety to rush through Telepe's chest.
"If I may, my lady? What provided the inspiration for such a… brilliant piece of art?" Telepe asked in a strained voice, trying to recapture the Ayleid woman's attention.
Balaseli turned to him and smiled more broadly. A fawning expression crossed her face as she replied, "Ah… I owe that to the guidance of my patroness. The Lady of Dreams, Vaermina, came to me one night and granted me a vision. She showed me a slave bound by thorns. As the vines bit into his skin, he was slowly drawn into the earth, and when his screaming finally ceased, a blood-red flower pulsing like a heart emerged from the spot in the soil where he had been pulled in. That was the impetus for my creation."
Telepe rested his hand on his chin and nodded rapidly, feigning an interested smile, trying to distract her from the openly furious look on Dynar's face. "How fascinating! Have you had many dreams like this?"
"Sadly no," Balaseli admitted, her smile fading. "In fact, that caused me a great deal of distress for a very long time. I've been a devoted follower of Vaermina since I was a young girl, yet she tormented me not with visions, but with her silence. I feared that I had displeased her in some way, and for a time I wondered if I would go mad from never hearing her sweet voice in my ear." She smiled blissfully and turned to the still-beating heart, adding, "Thankfully, I now know that I have earned enough of her favor to allow me to at least create one beautiful piece in her honor. For now, that's enough for me, though I eagerly await her next visit."
"I'm… certain that she will seek you again soon," Telepe agreed with a weak smile, trying to mollify the woman. He glanced past her at Dynar, whose face thankfully seemed to have once again settled into a more neutral expression, much to his relief.
"Perhaps. Though I'm uncertain exactly when she shall be able to speak with me again. Not so long as that… Daedric witch continues to overstep her bounds!" Balaseli hissed. Telepe's brows knitted in confusion, until realization dawned on him.
"Meridia?" Telepe asked slowly.
"Yes! That harlot and her half-breed champion have claimed dominion over all of Cyrod, without the consent of the other kingdoms," Balaseli snarled, flexing her fingers. A cold fire blazed behind her bright blue eyes as she spoke. "She claims to speak on behalf of all the Ayleids, yet she demands that we unconditionally swear fealty to her and her puppet kings, as though we are little more than her slaves. Of course, those of us that aren't in her thrall know her true aim. She intends to forge an empire with her at its center, and she seeks to purge those that refuse to bend their knee to her."
Telepe shot Dynar another wary look. The prince's face thankfully remained neutral, at least superficially. He had spent enough time with the prince to know that Dynar was silently seething at the insults he was being forced to endure on behalf of his goddess.
"Well… perhaps she'll be unsuccessful," Telepe suggested, trying to keep his tone as light as possible.
"Hmph. She's using a minor slave uprising hundreds of miles from here as a pretext to conquer every kingdom that does not already fly her banner," Balaseli retorted, waving her hand dismissively. "In truth, I can hardly blame the slaves for their anger with her. I would almost be tempted to say that we might fight alongside them for a short while, if only to spite Meridia."
Telepe's eyebrow briefly twitched upwards. "Indeed?" he pressed. Dynar slowly shifted his gaze towards Telepe, his brilliant blue eyes flashing dangerously.
"Indeed!" Balaseli confirmed, smirking. "I would much rather live in a divided Cyrod where we remain free to practice our faiths as we please, than in a united empire under the dominion of a slattern who demands that we worship her and no other." She shifted her gaze to the heart on the pillar, adding, "How else would I be free to create works like this? It's our right as masters of Cyrod to act as we please, without suffering the oppression of a goddess who oversteps her domain."
Telepe's gaze fell on the heart as well, and his brief interest in the woman's assertion immediately vanished. He realized that the young mer's frustration with Meridia's "oppression" of her beliefs only extended as far as her own people's rights. She would undoubtedly dismiss the suggestion that humans should also enjoy freedom, despite her condescending "benevolence" towards them.
"Then it's a pity that the rebellion remains so far from here," Telepe murmured.
"Quite. Perhaps if they were closer, Meridia would turn her gaze on them, not on us," Balaseli sighed. Then she smiled cheerfully. "Even so, that's a matter for kings and warriors to discuss! My arena is not the battlefield, but the art gallery. Meridia has yet to take that from me, at least. In truth, Vaermina's vision did not only gift me with the inspiration for this piece. Let me tell you about the next sculpture I intend to-"
"I believe we've viewed enough art for one day," Dynar interrupted curtly. "We've lingered here long enough, and our companions are undoubtedly awaiting our return."
Balaseli was instantly crestfallen. She turned to Telepe, giving him an almost pleading look, but Telepe shrugged helplessly, struggling not to let his relief show. "My apologies, my lady, but if my master claims we must depart, I must follow his command."
"If that's how it must be," Balaseli sighed. Then she smiled warmly. "Nevertheless, thank you for indulging me and allowing me to express myself. You're quite kind."
"You flatter us," Dynar replied shortly. "Farewell."
Telepe flashed her a brief, polite smile, then turned and immediately followed the prince. The pair hurried out of the gardens as swiftly as possible, almost jogging to the exit. As soon as they had passed through the gates that led back into the market district, Telepe felt his knees go weak, and he nearly pitched forward until Dynar caught him.
"Easy," the prince said in a low voice, pulling him upright. Telepe noticed that Dynar's voice was quivering, though he was otherwise maintaining his composure far better than Telepe was.
"Thank you," Telepe whispered, taking a deep shuddering breath before standing upright. "And my apologies."
"I trust your curiosity is sated?" Dynar asked, raising an eyebrow.
"For a lifetime," Telepe replied quietly. As they began making their way back to their wagon, he gave the prince a sidelong glance. "Had you ever seen those… gardens before yourself?"
"No. But I had heard stories," Dynar replied. "Though I admit, I was not wholly prepared for what we witnessed either. I had thought the worst of the tales to be exaggerations. This is a rare case where the reality is far more terrible than the rumors."
"Indeed," Telepe murmured, running his hand down his face. "Each time I believe I have seen the worst Cyrod has to offer, it unveils yet another new horror. I can hardly believe a kingdom like this can even exist."
"It wasn't nearly as awful under the Meridians," Dynar asserted, folding his hands behind his back as they walked beside one another. "The gut-gardens are a recent… landmark, which only arose after Vaermina's followers came to dominate the city. She certainly wouldn't have allowed such… perversions as that ever-beating heart."
"No… that was disgusting," Telepe agreed. A thought struck him, and he added, "You seemed particularly affronted when that mer explained the spell she used to animate the heart. Does Meridia place restrictions on what sort of Alteration magic may be practiced?"
"That was not Alteration!" Dynar snapped. Telepe flinched, and Dynar gave him an apologetic look, adding in a softer voice "That was the reanimated heart of a deceased victim. That was necromancy. And if there is one thing Meridia despises above all others – above disorder, above even rebellion against her – it is the perversion of life into unlife." He sighed and shook his head, murmuring under his breath, "If only her followers could retake this city…."
"Well… that would not be favorable for the rebellion," Telepe pointed out, lowering his voice. "I'd rather she didn't unite more cities under her banner. So long as Cyrod remains fractured, we can take advantage of our enemy's divisions."
Dynar glared at Telepe furiously. "You cannot truly be suggesting that we permit these heinous acts to continue simply because it allows the rebellion to capitalize on their disunity!" he hissed. "Or are you content allowing humans to suffer these atrocities?!"
"I'm not!" Telepe exclaimed, his eyes widening defensively. "Logically, though, if Meridia were to unite Cyrod, the rebellion would face a much more difficult war. And you must admit that under Meridia, the humans living here would remain slaves! The ultimate goal of the rebellion is to liberate Cyrod, and that becomes far more difficult in the face of a united Ayleid Empire, even one overseen by an otherwise benevolent deity like Meridia!"
"Would that truly be so terrible?" Dynar growled.
"Not for you and the other Ayleids, perhaps!" Telepe snapped. The two glared at each other for a long, tense moment, and then Telepe sighed and held up a hand, relenting. "My apologies."
"No… you're correct," Dynar admitted, running his hand irritably over his scalp. "Meridia does endorse slavery, and you're right to point that out. I confess, I do not wish to see my human friends returned to bondage, no matter how this war ends."
"Well… perhaps there's room for compromise," Telepe suggested. "If Meridia is truly benevolent and cares for life as you say, perhaps we might be able to reason with her."
"Perhaps. I certainly hope so," Dynar admitted quietly. "If we could settle this dispute through diplomacy rather than force of arms, it would certainly put my mind at ease."
Telepe smiled faintly at the prince, but when Dynar turned away, his smile faded. What if diplomacy with Meridia and her followers wasn't an option? If they couldn't resolve the war and liberate the slaves peacefully? Then, they would still need to seek allies. A divided Cyrod was in the rebellion's best interests, but who else could they convince to aid them? Balaseli had claimed that Vaermina's followers were willing to stand against Meridia. Did that mean that the only Ayleids he could treat with from now on were the madmen that even Meridia rejected? That was not a cheery thought.
The pair approached the wagon, which was still being dutifully guarded by Bjornar and Tamieu. As they neared it, Telepe noticed that Farilel and Tari had returned, both carrying small burlap sacks. Tari smiled warmly at him as he approached, while Farilel gave Dynar a probing look. Dynar simply shook his head, and female Ayleid sighed.
"We were wondering when you would return," Tari remarked, setting her sack in the wagon before smiling up at Telepe. "These two mentioned that you went to see the gardens. What were they like?"
"I'll… explain later," Telepe said quietly. He agreed with Dynar's earlier assessment – if he told them the truth while they were still in Sercen, the humans were liable to try to start a revolt right then and there – Tari especially. Tari gave him a disappointed look, but he refused to meet her gaze until she finally sighed and relented. Farilel glanced at him, raising an eyebrow, and when he looked away, she smiled sadly to herself.
"Do we have any further business here?" Dynar asked Farilel.
"Not for now," Farilel replied. "We spoke with a few alchemists, and they provided us with some medicine."
"They also taught us the properties of some of the ingredients we're liable to find in the north," Tari added. "It was quite informative, since my former mistress only sparingly used ingredients that she could not gather within the Great Forest itself, so I have little experience working with many of the plants and fungi beyond Lake Rumare."
"I'm pleased this was a useful trip for you, then," Telepe smiled warmly.
"Quite," Tari agreed. "Though it pains me to admit it, many of the alchemists here are at least on par with those in Ceya-Tar, and in some ways, surpass ours. They showed us sleeping draughts that are far more potent than anything my homeland's alchemists ever concocted, and one even boasted to have created potions that can even shape dreams, though I doubt that claim. Even so, their work is impressive."
"Excellent," Dynar said shortly. "If there's nothing else, though, we should depart as soon as possible. The others are still awaiting our return."
"Agreed," Farilel nodded, glancing at the prince warily as he hurriedly climbed onto the wagon, obviously eager to leave the city as soon as possible. Tari gave him a curious look, but Telepe sympathized with the prince, and honestly shared his feelings. He knew it would be days before the horrors of Sercen's gardens faded into the back of his mind.
Once they were certain their goods were secure and all were aboard, Dynar swiftly drove the wagon out of the market district, passing through the main gates of Sercen with barely a nod to the guards. As soon as they stepped out onto the main road, however, Dynar stopped the wagon. Telepe didn't notice that they had halted altogether at first, but when they showed no signs of moving, he scowled towards the front of the wagon. Tari traded a curious look with him, and they clambered forward.
"What's wrong?" Telepe asked.
Dynar glanced at him and Tari, then held a finger up to his lips and nodded to his left. Telepe and Tari quieted down and peered around his shoulders. A young Ayleid male dressed only in a loose white skirt and sandals was standing in front of the guards, loudly announcing something to the warriors as they glared down at the young elf. Their spears were crossed in front of the gate, barring him entry, but a few of the guards on the walls were leaning over to listen to the boy's proclamation.
"…therefore, by order of Umaril Many-Feathers, Champion of the White-Gold City and Blessed Meridia, we hereby demand that you lay down your arms and swear fealty to the Lady of Light. If you refuse our demands, the united army of Her Ladyship shall descend upon your city, slaughter your armies, and reinstate the rightful rulers of Sercen – those blessed by the glorious goddess herself. Be forewarned that her army numbers in the thousands and shall raze your city with a fury to shake Aetherius itself. Surrender shall be met with mercy and friendship. Defiance shall be met with death."
The guards traded derisive looks, then one of them raised the butt end of his spear and smacked the young man across the chest, knocking him to the ground. The mer grunted, doubled over in pain, as the guard snorted, "You dare expect me to bother the king with an empty threat? Begone, boy! Tell your masters that we'll not be cowed by those we've bested once already."
The young mer glared up at the guards, coughing as he slowly rose to his feet. A furious glint gleamed in his vivid blue eyes as he snarled, "…Very well. I'll be certain to pass that along."
The messenger turned and began limping back down the road as the guards chortled to each other. Telepe slowly turned towards Dynar. The prince was wearing a thoughtful expression, and Telepe noticed that his fingers were clutching the reins rather tightly. The prince's expression was conflicted, but to his chagrin, Telepe noticed that he was gazing towards the White-Gold tower almost hopefully. Telepe's stomach twisted, and he nudged Dynar, trying to snap him out of his thoughts.
"Your Highness… we still have a long way until we reach Sancre Tor," Telepe said quietly.
"…Yes. Of course," Dynar agreed, stirring out of his pensiveness. Slowly, he turned the horses around and began retracing the road to the east, a heavy silence hanging over the wagon as they made their way back to the rest of the caravan.